<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>TNT by rintherat</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30149934">TNT</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rintherat/pseuds/rintherat'>rintherat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anarchist TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), BAMF Niki | Nihachu, BAMF Toby Smith | Tubbo, BAMF TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Im tired, Morally Ambiguous Character, One Shot, the children have explosives, tubbo tommy and niki are done with everyones shit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:08:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,024</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30149934</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rintherat/pseuds/rintherat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy couldn’t watch history repeat itself, L’Manburg may have not meant to be, but the SMP still had a chance, there was still a small ember of hope. But nobody else could see it, there was only one way to get them to see that they were following the same path, and that was to have it meet the same fate. Actions speak louder than words they say, so Tommy was going to burn this place, his own personal hell to the fucking ground. He will make them see, make them deviate from their path. He won’t let them fall apart like his home, they will rebuild stronger, they will have the chance that his country never had. If they hit rock bottom, they could only go up, and Tommy was going to make sure they hit bedrock.</p><p>---<br/>In which a group of three refuses to see history repeat itself</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>119</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Completed stories I've read</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>TNT</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>TRIGGER WARNINGS</p><p>Mentions of violence, fire, and explosives<br/>Nothing is described in great detail and if i missed anything please let me know</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tommy knew the country that he sacrificed everything for was gone. It had been destroyed too many times to count, by enemies and former friends. It was gone the moment the former leader had descended into madness, caring more about revenge and destruction than the people. It was gone the instant Tubbo’s body was burned in a shower of sparks by a trusted ally. It was gone when the people turned against each other, when friendships were broken, and everyone seemed to drift away like leaves in the wind.</p><p>It wasn’t just L’Manburg anymore. The SMP as a whole was following the same path, turning into pure chaos before everyone’s eyes. It was supposed to be a place to bond, have freedom, and was turned into a landscape of political warfare, of bombs and withers, of child soldiers forced to grow up too quickly. Bonds that were supposed to be nurtured were destroyed from the very roots, families ripped apart with harsh words and early graves.</p><p>Tommy couldn’t watch history repeat itself, L’Manburg may have not meant to be, but the SMP still had a chance, there was still a small ember of hope. But nobody else could see it, there was only one way to get them to see that they were following the same path, and that was to have it meet the same fate. Actions speak louder than words they say, so Tommy was going to burn this place, his own personal hell to the fucking ground. He will make them see, make them deviate from their path. He won’t let them fall apart like his home, they will rebuild stronger, they will have the chance that his country never had. If they hit rock bottom, they could only go up, and Tommy was going to make sure they hit bedrock.</p><p>He knew he couldn’t do it alone, he had determination, a fire in his eyes, anger at all, but he was still only a kid, only Tommy. He wasn’t Techno who spilt blood with every step, unable to be defeated, able to cause destruction within seconds. He wasn’t Wilbur with his silver tongue, with no empathy for those he hurt, with no regards for his own health. He wasn’t Phil, a master of survival, able to conquer the dragon itself, always overcoming death. He was just Tommy, the most human of them all, but maybe that’s why he was so determined. He didn’t have ways to escape, only himself, he couldn’t make people stop with a simple word or spawn withers in seconds. He understands his mortality more than anyone, that he will die, but it fuels him. </p><p>Being surrounded by gods amongst men is hard, it’s hell knowing that he will never be as good, but it gives him that special determination. That spark to prove himself, to do what he wants. He may only have been Tommy, a kid forced into war too early, but he had grit. He might not be able to single-handedly take down an entire server, show them their mistakes, but he was able to not be alone. He may not be as strong as his former family, but that didn’t mean he didn’t learn anything from them, didn’t learn how to prevail in impossible odds, how to convince someone. He might not be able to bring down a whole server, but he can rally support with skills he learned from Wilbur, he can sow destruction even if it may not be as grand as Techno’s. People may not quiver in his presence, shake in fear, but he could still instill a feeling of uneasiness, a warning if you will.</p><p>He first turned to Tubbo. They’re friendship tested over and over again and again, but they understood each other. They may not get along like they used to, but they held a mutual respect for each other, they knew what the other had experienced. Tommy had felt the isolation of exile, Tubbo the pressure of leadership. He saw firsthand how the world truly is, he saw that the government, his presidency was bound to cause pain. He, a sixteen year-old was forced to run a country, to have people rely on him, having expectations crush him with every step. They may not have the same relationship, no longer brothers in everything but blood, but they were trying, trying to heal, to understand.</p><p>It will never be the same between the two, both having grown, having gone forward with life without the other. They’re demeanor, their actions, words, thoughts, may have changed with them, but they both understood the path the SMP was heading towards. They may be in different positions now, but they still witnessed the downfall of their home, how a once mighty nation was reduced to rubble. Tubbo knew something needed to be done, and he wasn’t going to watch idly when Tommy extended a hand, an opportunity. He had that same fire, the determination to set an example, to prove others wrong, and by god was he going to.</p><p>Nikki was the third that Tommy reached out to. Their relationship was strained at best, broken by countless squabbles and deaths, factors on both sides. Tommy knew they didn’t get along, that Nikki too saw him as an enemy, but she watched the downfall too. She watched how L’Manburg fell, time and time again. She saw how Wilbur lost his life to his own father, how TNT and wither skulls rained down from the sky, a crescendo of destruction and chaos. She saw how the server was repeating itself, how if nothing was done, the server itself would be gone, and with it, it’s people. </p><p>The three of them were as different as night and day, but they all had the fire, the need to set an example, to destroy a broken server, one that was no longer their home, warped countless times through revolution and war, dictatorships and hate, death and chaos. They knew that the people wouldn’t listen, that they were too far with progress to stop now. So the three will make them, they’ll strop them of the progress, show them that they are headed towards a worse fate, that if nothing’s done they wouldn’t survive regardless, that more blood is destined to be shed.</p><p>They weren’t aiming for just L’Manburg, or just the Badlands, but everyone. They all must experience the same pain, gain the same understanding, they must all see how it will only lead to destruction. They weren’t going to just spawn some withers, light some TNT, they were going to destroy it all. Burn it to fucking ashes so it can rise again like a phoenix from it’s grave. They needed something that would bring everyone together, force them to work together, less the whole server perished.</p><p>They started small, stealing a few important items from the others, framing their allies escalating that tension, the distrust. They were going to fall like L’Manburg, with smoke clogged air and betrayal thick in the water. They needed to realize that this will be their fate, constantly distrusting of their brethren, backstabbing anyone for personal gain. The world was going to go up flames, but every fire needs fuel, every house a foundation, and this was a perfect way to begin, to let their idea, their operation tale root.</p><p>They started to build, their determination growing every day as they watched it all unfold. It hit a little too close to home for them, it was their idea and they knew it had to be done, but that doesn’t mean they enjoyed it. They hated how it followed their script, perfectly mirroring the downfall of L’Manburg. They silently wished that they wouldn’t have to finish that they would realize, but they still didn’t. They didn’t realize the fate they were headed towards, the utter destruction of the server, the devolution into pure anarchy, reduced to nothing more than animals hunting each other.</p><p>Sometimes they turned a corner and flinched at how it mirrored the past, how the events were so painstakingly familiar. They flinched at how everyone became more violent, more reckless, more mistrusting, even though they knew it would happen. They knew they couldn’t save them from the same fate without letting them experience a portion of it, but it still hurt. It may not be their home, their country anymore, but it was still the server they were raised in, the server that they lived on, a place that used to foster hope. It made their insides turn watching how a place that used to foster hope became a place of despair and chaos. It was a crushing weight inside them knowing that they were the reason it was becoming worse, but they still continued. They still held hope that the server could once again return to its former glory, that it might rise again.</p><p>Even Dream, the mastermind behind it all with an unquenchable thirst for destruction, feeding on the betrayal and chaos was starting to tire. Chaos is no use if it is normalized, there cannot be manipulation if no-one has anything to lose. Yes, he enjoyed watching the others pounce on each other as if they were lions but he knew they would soon cease to be entertaining. You can only do something a certain amount of times before it loses its charm, before you need to find something else. He wasn’t sorry for his actions, he knew that he was not morally right, that his actions hurt many, that he was a source of almost every problem, that it could somehow always be traced back to him. He could care less if the server delved into chaos, if the world ended right there, he wouldn’t care. But he cared about entertainment, he was the narrator of the story, the writer, and he knew that if history repeated itself, there wouldn’t be anymore destruction, and entertainment. </p><p>He knew that the people would all end up six feet under, ending up as fertilizer for whatever nature pleased. He was a selfish man, doing everything in self gain, and he knew that this fate, this outcome, wouldn’t help him. He couldn’t manipulate dead bodies, couldn’t feed on the despair of others if there were none. He acted the same as he did with Wilbur, helping the three from the sidelines, a wither skull here, a stack of TNT there. These three were his newest form of entertainment, and he was going to make sure it stayed that way until the finale. He fed on destruction, but it had to be new, it couldn’t be a custom or standard. The server didn’t heed his thirst anymore, the daily chaos becoming stale and bitter, a reminder of how his entertainment will run out without a grand finale. He couldn’t leave the symphony in disarray, and he was going to help those who wanted to finish it in a shower of ash.</p><p>The three gained a sick satisfaction from Dream’s help. They knew he didn’t truly care, was only helping so his show wasn’t cancelled. But they loved that they knew his motives. They weren’t hidden with false promises, they weren’t a web of intricate lies and honey coated sentences. The fire behind their eyes had never been more dangerous, the three of them may have determination, but they were still mortal. But now they had Dream.</p><p>And that changed everything.</p><p>They had access to much more now, and they were going to use it. For once, they didn’t feel fear when confronting Dream, but a steely determination, the resolve that they will get what they want. Their plan would work, and the server would burn. It was what they wanted, and they wouldn’t settle for less.</p><p>They knew it was time when even George, the most peaceful, the one who simply wished for peace and harmony, the ability to relax, dawned diamond armor, ready for war. They saw how it mirrored the past, how betrayal and pain laced the air. They were almost at rock bottom, now all they needed was a small push. The thing to finally drag them down, to truly sink them to the worst. They were going to be that push, and then they were going to let them swim up, gasping for air, savoring it, letting them finally realize the fate that they must avoid. You never realize how much you need something until it’s gone, and the three had the job of taking it away.</p><p>It didn’t begin at night or at the break of dawn, in a flash of light or smoke, at the beginning it didn’t even feel different, it was the same chaos that littered the server daily. But it built, the TNT didn’t stop falling, the withers didn’t seem to stay dead, soon everyone was fighting. Because as much as the place had been broken, it’s meaning lost and warped, ideals shattered and reformed, somewhere in everyone’s heart it was theirs, and they weren’t going to lose it so easily. They may not have cared for their former friends and allies, but a part of them still cared about the server, their server. They weren’t going to let it fall to three traumatized individuals, two child soldiers, burdened with too much responsibility, and a woman who had it all taken away. </p><p>They fought and fought, hacking away at the withers, slicing through the hordes of mobs that had spawned as their battle raged on into the night. They were tiring, and the three knew it was time to finish their symphony, to finally end it, to finally allow for new roots to take place, ones that would be cared for, not ripped away. It was time for the server to have the ending that L’Manburg deserved, for people to finally start healing, coming to terms with themselves and others.</p><p>A roar pierced the air as the world seemed to be bathed in a purple light. The mobs that they had been fighting crumpled into dust, wither skulls and skeleton bones scattering across the battlefield. Everyone’s adrenaline kicked into overdrive as they realized with horror what the reason behind the light was. They all realized that they finally must work together if they wanted to live, to avoid certain death, a fate no one wanted to meet.</p><p>Arrows whizzed through the air, burrowing through thick dragonhide, into chinks of the obsidian black scales. They supported each other, giving potions to those who were injured, splitting arrows between each other. The way they fought was almost animalistic as they relied on their instincts for survival. They dodged and shot over and over, they listened to their brain when it screamed to duck down, when it told them to give someone more arrows. It was the only way they would survive, and no amount of previous hate and need for destruction could overrule the urge to live, to persevere.</p><p>They were tired as the sun rose, basking the battlefield in morning dew and warm sun. For once, the server was truly peaceful, there were no fights, there was no malice between them. They simply rested in silence, reflecting on what had happened. They had finally realized the fate they were walking into, that if they continued to drift apart, to become corrupted with malice and mistrust, unable to turn to anyone, they would die. They would end up like L’Manburg, a piece of history filled with pain and trauma, a place that ultimately met its end by its own creator, its own people. </p><p>They realized that they had been blindly following in its steps, destroying their own home without remorse, not realizing that they were killing the place that they were welcome on. Everyone came to the SMP for a reason, but they all were running from something. But it didn’t matter on the server, it didn’t matter what you were leaving behind, everyone was welcomed with open arms. They weren’t turned away like they had been by others, they could move on, become better, heal. They realized how far they had strayed from that, how a place made to heal was only harming, how it took them to be truly broken down for them to realize. </p><p>They realized how much they missed it, how they felt empty without the others, the friendly banter and conversation. How the server was before it all, all the war and death, the chaos and betrayal, when it was only a refuge, a place to rest. How this was the first time they had truly rested, not plagued by fitful nightmares or paranoia, how they truly felt at peace.</p><p>The three had left with bittersweet smiles, not bothering to say goodbye, only leaving a single rose bush with a disc and a flint and steel at the base. There was no note, no tear-filled goodbye, only a reminder, a warning that next time they won't be there to stop them. A reminder that their fate was theirs now, they could mold it into what they want, that they could finally be at peace.</p><p>The server soon started to heal, it wasn’t instant, there was still malice and pain, the distrust that comes with years of fear, but there was effort. Attempts were made to explain, to try and help, outbursts were not always forgiven, but they were explained. Boundaries were set, and the people started to finally come to terms with themselves. It wasn’t a linear process, setbacks happened easily, a step forward often was accompanied by two steps back, but it was still a step forward, a sign that they were trying. That they did care, and wanted to heal, no longer wanting to live in distrust and anger. </p><p>Dream disappeared soon after, none of the inhabitants knowing where he fled to. Every once in a while they heard stories of a group of four that caused chaos in its wake, destroying corrupt governments, warning people of the fate they were headed to. The group was always destructive in it’s methods, always using withers, TNT, and there was always a single Ender Dragon.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>